aise to your poor father. Thou wilt weep to think where he is, yet be
assured he will soon be at liberty. That cruel letter would have broke
his heart, but I have concealed it from him. I have no companion at
present besides little Fanny, who stands watching my looks as I write,
and is crying for her sister; she says she is sure you are not well,
having discovered that my present trouble is about you. But do not think
I would thus repeat my sorrows to grieve thee. No, it is to intreat thee
not to make them insupportable, by adding what would be worse than all.
Let us bear cheerfully an affliction which we have not brought on
ourselves, and remember there is a Power who can better deliver us out
of it, than by the loss of thy innocence. Heaven preserve my dear child.

'_Thy affectionate mother_--.'

11. The messenger, notwithstanding he promised to deliver this letter to
Amanda, carried it first to his master, who, he imagined, would be glad
to have an opportunity of giving it into her hands himself. His master
was impatient to know the success of his proposal, and therefore broke
open the letter privately, to see the contents.

12. He was not a little moved at so true a picture of virtue in
distress: but, at the same time, was infinitely surprised to find his
offers rejected. However, he resolved not to suppress the letter, but
carefully sealed it up again, and carried it to Amanda. All his
endeavours to see her were in vain, till she was assured he brought a
letter from her mother. He would not part with it but upon condition
that she should read it without leaving the room.

13. While she was perusing it, he fixed his eyes on her face with the
deepest attention; her concern gave a new softness to her beauty, and
when she burst into tears, he could no longer refrain from bearing a
part in her sorrow, and telling her, that he too had read the letter,
and was resolved to make reparation for having been the occasion of it.
My reader will not be displeased to see the second epistle which he now
wrote to Amanda's mother.

MADAM,

'I am full of shame, and will never forgive myself if I have not your
pardon for what I lately wrote. It was far from my intention to add
trouble to the afflicted; nor could any thing but my being a stranger to
you, have betrayed me into a fault, for which, if I live, I shall
endeavour to make you amends as a son. You cannot be unhappy while
Amanda is your daughter: nor shall be, if any thing